


The Finest Entertainment

by Zai42



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Corsetry, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Fluff, Humiliation, Hysteria, Light Bondage, M/M, Medical Roleplay, Multi, Overstimulation, Rape Roleplay, Sex Toys, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Mr. Wilde has been feeling quite under the weather lately.
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 22
Kudos: 59





	The Finest Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> Used clit and cunt for Wilde's anatomy. Kinda headcanoned him as nonbinary in this fic but it doesn't exactly come up, so that's really more some trivia than anything \o/

They set up the “clinic” in the cellar, and Wilde let himself look around it as if he hadn’t spent yesterday helping Zolf maneuver the centerpiece of the whole production downstairs and spitting curses the whole time. “This is my, uh, colleague,” Zolf said, gesturing over at where Grizzop was sitting on one of the chairs, tipping it dangerously backwards. (Zolf sounded stilted, awkward. That was fine. Wilde was a good enough actor to make up for it, and he always got into the swing of things by the end.) “We’re both going to be, er. Examining you. Today. Mr. Wilde.”

“I appreciate it,” Wilde said demurely, peering at Zolf through his eyelashes. “I’ve been so distracted lately, I don’t know what could be wrong with me. What should I do?”

“Get your clothes off, for one thing,” Grizzop said bluntly, and Wilde sputtered, laying one hand over his heart in exaggerated scandal. Grizzop arched an eyebrow. “You’re feverish, distracted, can’t focus. Sounds like hysteria to me. Get naked.”

“I hardly think that’s decorous, doctor,” Wilde said. Grizzop hopped off the chair, letting its legs hit the floor with a thud. “I am not - ”

“Sounds like you’re talking around being horned out of your brain,” Grizzop said, stalking around him in a slow circle. “You sure that’s not one of the symptoms? Maybe one you’re embarrassed to admit?”

 _“No!”_ Wilde said, shooting an offended pout in Zolf’s direction. “Doctor Smith - ”

“No underwear,” Grizzop said clinically, tugging at Wilde’s waistband and peeking beneath it; Wilde squawked (close to genuinely, this time) and twisted away from him, staggering back in Zolf’s direction. Grizzop leered at him, teeth bright and sharp. “Just trying to help fix you, _Mr. Wilde,”_ he said, and winked.

Zolf’s hand slid up to rest at Wilde’s back, a bit too low to be proper, but not indecent. Not yet. “Sorry for his bedside manner,” Zolf said gruffly. “Not saying you’re hysterical, but - you know. We gotta make sure. We can leave the room while you take your clothes off if you’d be more comfortable. And you can keep your underwear on.”

“Told you, he’s not wearing any,” Grizzop said smugly. “And isn’t that a pretty damning symptom? Sluttish behavior?”

Wilde huffed and reached up to take off his jacket with clipped movements. “Fine,” he said stiffly. He fumbled with his necktie. “If you insist on following this - absurd line of thinking.”

Grizzop let out a low whistle as Wilde let his shirt fall off his shoulders. “Pretty fancy corset for a daytrip to the doctor’s,” he said. Wilde flushed, his hands hesitating at the waist of his trousers. “Something wrong?” Grizzop asked sweetly. Wilde sighed and eased his trousers down over his hips, shivering slightly, staring at the wall. “Told you,” Grizzop said.

“Hmm,” Zolf rumbled.

“It’s - it was hot this morning,” Wilde sniffed, trying to keep a dignified tone while Grizzop leered at him, naked except for the deep green corset around his waist.

“Why don’t you get up on the table and open your legs,” Zolf suggested.

Wilde obeyed, letting his legs fall just open and refusing to meet either of their eyes. He felt Grizzop’s hands push his thighs further apart and bit his lip. Zolf thumbed open his cunt, and Wilde twitched, biting back a sound. “Pretty slick for an upstanding member of society,” Grizzop singsonged. Wilde watched out of the corner of his eye as Grizzop slipped two fingers along the wet slit of his cunt; he smirked and Wilde returned it for just a moment before snapping back into character. “Convinced yet?”

“Does seem pretty likely,” Zolf said thoughtfully.

Zolf slowly sank one thick finger into Wilde, and Wilde gasped, hips twitching. “Is this _really - ”_

“Standard procedure, Mr. Wilde,” Zolf said, his voice low and rough with ill-concealed arousal. “That hurt at all?”

“N-no,” Wilde gasped.

“Shocking,” Grizzop said, and Zolf elbowed him, biting back a smile.

Zolf pulled his finger out of him and Wilde whined, part playacting and part genuine want. Grizzop grinned; Zolf wiped his hand clean on Wilde’s thigh. “Well,” he said. “You said you were distracted? Found it hard to focus?”

“Yes,” Wilde managed. He tried, belatedly, to close his legs; Grizzop stopped him. “I can hardly concentrate for half an hour before my mind starts to wander.”

“Mhm. And you’ve been hot?”

“Feverish,” Wilde corrected him primly - as primly as one could be, with their legs being held open by one lover while the other knelt between them. “I’ll get these...moments of being...feverish. H-hot, I suppose.”

“Flushed all over?” Grizzop asked, flicking lightly at Wilde’s clit. “All that hot blood rushing to your pretty - ”

“That’s enough,” Zolf said. Grizzop grinned. “Well that all certainly sounds like hysteria,” Zolf said, with a surprising degree of confidence, considering. “Fortunately, we can, uh. Administer...treatment.”

“Treatment,” Wilde repeated. “No, no, you _can’t,_ I’m not - ” Grizzop and Zolf each took a hand, guided him back to his feet, and Wilde went easily enough, protesting the whole way. “You can’t do this to me,” he said weakly, as they lead him over to the damn saddle off in the corner. A thrill of anticipation went through him; he had felt the smooth heft of the thing yesterday, dragging it down here. The leather seat was butter-soft and lushly padded; the motor, once they’d gotten it running, had been silent and _powerful._

(“Gonna rub your cunt clean off,” Grizzop had said, palm resting on the vibrating seat. “You’re not gonna be able to stand for a week.”

“You’ll have to carry me to bed, then, darling,” Wilde had replied dreamily.

“Will you two help me attach the damn stirrups already,” Zolf had grumbled.)

Grizzop took his legs out at the knee; Zolf manhandled him so he was straddling the saddle. “It’s for your own good, Mr. Wilde,” he said, forcing his hips down until he was seated fully on the smooth leather; Wilde felt it grow hot and slick beneath him almost immediately.

“I don’t see how this will help!” he protested, squirming ineffectually as Grizzop strapped him down.

“Should we tie your hands down, too?” Grizzop asked, watching Wilde tug uselessly at his bindings.

“Don’t think we’ll need to,” Zolf said, and flicked on the motor.

Wilde’s back arched and a cry was ripped from his throat, his protests dying away into shocked, full-throated moans. Just feeling the vibrations beneath his palm hadn’t been enough to prepare him for this; for a moment his mind was wiped perfectly clean, all thoughts of roleplay or playful resistance gone, all that remained a baffled scramble of _more fuck gods oh gods more._

Grizzop’s thumb rubbing gently over his hip tugged him back down to reality, grounded him in the moment once again. He realized his jaw had gone slack and licked his lips; his hands had locked tightly around the edges of the saddle and he tried to force himself to loosen his grip. He couldn’t quite get his hips to stop rocking; beneath him, the saddle had become soaked. He whimpered.

“There, don’t you feel better?” Zolf murmured, one warm palm coming up to stroke over the curve of Wilde’s waist, dramatized as it was by his corset. “Just try to relax, this will help.”

“No,” Wilde slurred. “Don’t - don’t _look_ at me.” _(If you stop looking at me we’re getting a divorce,_ he thought wildly.) “Turn it off!”

Zolf pushed gently against his back until he was lying flat against the saddle; at this angle it was impossible to ignore the grinding thrusts of his hips against the leather. Zolf slid a finger easily into him and Wilde, panting, came hard, hugging the saddle tightly and shuddering. “Still so tense,” Zolf murmured, massaging lightly at Wilde’s insides, then easing him back upright. Wilde swayed dizzily. “Grizzop, keep an eye on him for me, gonna go grab some uh. Stuff.”

“Stuff, uh-huh,” Grizzop said, watching Wilde hungrily. “You got it.” His hands wandered away from Wilde’s hips to grope greedily at his thigh, claws sinking into the soft flesh. “Look at you,” he murmured, half cruel mockery and half pure adoration. “You know how you look, coming your brains out on this thing?”

“Please,” Wilde gasped, a dazed grin on his features. “Oh, doctor, please stop.” It was atrocious acting; Wilde was too far gone to care.

With one hand, Grizzop reached down to thumb at Wilde’s clit, hard and swollen and flushed with blood; with the other, he grasped the laces of Wilde’s corset in a fist and _pulled,_ cinching it tight, and Wilde’s cry was choked off and breathless. He squirmed, spine held straight, the pressure from Grizzop’s thumb and the vibrations from the saddle overwhelming almost to the point of pain; he came again, in quick, aching throbs, and Grizzop eased up, just a little, and the knife’s-edge flood of sensation eased into something duller and more bearable.

Wilde hadn’t even realized Zolf had returned until he felt thick, oiled fingers probing at his ass. “Whrydng,” he said, cleverly. He licked his lips, shook his head to try and get some blood back to his brain. Grizzop had buried his face in his side to muffle his giggles. “What are you doing?” he managed, when he tried again, then groaned as Zolf eased a finger into his ass.

“Gonna plug you up,” Zolf said. “Promotes. I dunno, blood flow or something.”

Wilde laughed weakly. “I believe you,” he said. “Ngh,” he added as Zolf pulled out of him. He recognized the plug that rubbed up against him; it was metal and heavy, one of his favorites. He pushed back against it, eyes slipping closed, and moaned as it sank slowly into him, the weight of it a hot, familiar sensation low in his belly. He twitched against the saddle. “Oh,” he sighed. “Oh, fuck.”

“Think the treatment’s working?” Grizzop asked, running his claws along the boning of Wilde’s corset, watching him hump the soft leather. “Thought we were trying to discourage slutty shit, and he seems like he’s enjoying himself a bit too much.”

“It’s not a punishment,” Zolf said patiently. He pushed gently at the base of the plug, watching Wilde’s eyes flutter closed, his lips part in a silent moan. “Just gotta get it all out of his system.”

“Might take a while,” Grizzop said with relish.

“That it might,” Zolf agreed, and took the laces of Wilde’s corset in his own hand, tugging at them more gently than Grizzop had, but still tight enough that Wilde gasped for air. “Good thing we’ve got all day.”

The thing about being in the cellar was, it meant Wilde couldn’t track the sunlight to tell the time, and he lost track of how many orgasms he’d had around number six. (Number six had been a good one, with Grizzop twisting the plug in his ass and Zolf pumping three thick fingers into his cunt. If Wilde hadn’t exhausted himself crying during orgasm number four, he might have started then.) They had swung in and out of character throughout the afternoon, alternating from laughter and kisses to begging and vicious humiliation, and by the time Grizzop unbuckled the straps from Wilde’s legs and he slid off the saddle, he was limp and exhausted and wrung out, clinging weakly to Zolf as he eased him to the floor.

“Think it worked?” Grizzop asked, squeezing at Wilde’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart to prod at the base of the plug. “Looks pretty out of his system to me.”

Zolf snorted. “Well, let’s see.” Zolf flipped Wilde onto his stomach, running a palm down his sweat-slick back. He eased the plug out of him and lined his cock up instead, pushing slowly into him with a long sigh. “Grizzop,” he began, but Grizzop was already ahead of him, maneuvering Wilde up onto his knees and sinking easily into his sloppy cunt. Wilde whimpered, leaning to drape himself backwards over Zolf’s shoulders, and Grizzop pinched at his clit, hot and oversensitive, almost but not quite numb from coming.

Grizzop was quick and relentless, driving hard into Wilde, coming once and continuing without stopping, all that goblin stamina crackling with the impatience of being made to wait for hours on end. Behind him, Zolf was slower but no less relentless, his cock thick and heavy and stretching Wilde open. Wilde reached for Grizzop’s ears, uncoordinated and dazed, stroked his fingers over the soft tip of one. He rolled his head on Zolf’s shoulder and made tiny, demanding noises until he relented and kissed him, the angle awkward and perfect.

He didn’t think he’d be coming again, didn’t think he could manage it, thought he’d be content to lie between them and get fucked like an object. Then Grizzop’s fingers squeezed just so, and Zolf’s palm slid over a nipple, and Wilde jerked in their arms, clenching weakly around their cocks, moaning and unsure if the orgasm pulsing in him hurt or not.

Later, up in their bedroom (and Wilde had no idea how he had managed to make it up there; presumably Grizzop had carried him), after Wilde had been made to drink water and rolled up in a quilt he was too wrung out to wriggle free from, Zolf said, “I still think it’s stupid.”

Wilde snorted.

“Course it’s stupid,” Grizzop said, clinging to the outside of Wilde’s bedsheet bundle. “The guy got laughed out of every medical institute on the planet, everyone knows it’s stupid.”

“Mmn,” said Wilde, lazily blinking his eyes open. “Maybe you should give it a try yourself before you judge it,” he said, grinning. _“Doctor.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Universe - It's fantasy steampunk 18mumblemumble and all the sex toys were invented explicitly for fun and hysteria was just one weirdo nobody listened to but if you think about it it's kinda hot so there's that?


End file.
